


A Moment in Autumn

by gothyringwald



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Autumn, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26961736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: It’s not in Nicky’s nature to make a fuss, but there is nothing more he likes than pleasing Joe. And Joe loves to pleasehim. And, so, sometimes Nicky will make a show of being miserable with the cold, and Joe will indulge him with hot drinks and hotter kisses.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 28
Kudos: 211
Collections: Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	A Moment in Autumn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitsunerei88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunerei88/gifts).



> For kitsunerei88, who wanted tooth rotting fluff - I hope this is what you wanted! :)

Rain patters against the window and wind rustles yellowed leaves on the trees lining the yard. It takes Nicky back to the inclement autumns of his childhood—the rain, the mud, the dead leaves littering the ground. The phantom scent of new rain and old foliage floods him, fills his senses.

It’s strange, the things he remembers so clearly, while others have faded like a sun-bleached watercolour painting.

But here, today, his childhood comes back in stark clarity. He’d hated autumn then, how it made his chores that bit more miserable. Later, he’d learnt to ignore the cold, to ignore all the sensations of the flesh. But, deep down, the rain still conjures misery and frustration, especially when they’re on a mission—he doesn’t complain, he’s a warrior, after all. But it agitates him all the same.

They’re not on a mission now, though, and while there is still something of the restless child in him, he can’t deny the appeal of being holed up somewhere safe and warm. Especially when it is just he and Joe here, relishing a moment of peace.

The cold and the rain don’t bother Joe in the same way, which has always baffled Nicky—he’d grown up somewhere hotter, drier, and though Joe loves to bask and sprawl, he is much quicker to restlessness than Nicky. Always moving.

Nicky glances over to where Joe stands at the stove. The cuffs of his thick sweater are pushed up, revealing his beautiful wrists; he dances to an unheard song as he stirs a wooden spoon in a saucepan.

The scent of chocolate fills the air, thick and rich and tinged with the spices Nicky knows Joe has added. Joe ceases his dance so he can ladle the drink into two mugs, and brings them over. Steam rises from the mug he sets on the table by where Nicky sits. The other, he keeps for himself, and he settles on the opposite side of the couch.

Their legs tangle beneath the blanket, Joe’s toe edging beneath the hem of Nicky’s sweater, nudging newly revealed skin.

‘Your feet are cold,’ Nicky grumbles, shifting so Joe’s feet are tucked between his thigh and the back of the couch.

‘I’m sorry, my love, should I put some socks on?’ Joe’s words are contrite, but his tone is quite the opposite.

‘No, you’ll only let in the cold again.’ Nicky tugs on the blanket, tucking it tighter around them, his lips twitching. It’s not in his nature to make a fuss, but there is nothing more he likes than pleasing Joe. And Joe loves to please _him_. And, so, sometimes Nicky will make a show of being miserable with the cold, and Joe will indulge him with hot drinks and hotter kisses.

‘Drink your chocolate, it will warm you.’ Joe’s eyes twinkle, even in the grey light. ‘You are welcome for it, by the way.’

Nicky picks up his mug, letting it hide his smile as he says, ‘Grazie mille, tesoro.’ The chocolate is rich and hot, and still a little bitter beneath the sweetness. Just the way he likes it.

He remembers the first time they’d tasted it, centuries ago—Joe had taken to it immediately, with its sharp spices and the bite of the unsweetened chocolate, but it had taken Nicky a while to get used to it. It’s his favourite, now, when they are able to indulge in such things.

‘Do you remember the first time we drank this?’ Joe asks.

Nicky chuckles.

‘What?’

‘I was just thinking of it.’

‘Well’—Joe shrugs—‘great minds.’

Nicky smiles, letting another memory fill his mind. Not as clear as his childhood, but clear enough. ‘It was Spagna. Cádiz. 1542.’

The matching smile on Joe’s face fades to a frown. ‘No, it was Seville. 1538.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do. Anyway, if I remember correctly’—Joe shoots Nicky a challenging look—‘you all but spat yours out.’

‘It was too hot.’

‘I don’t remember you having any issues with heat before,’ Joe says, moving his foot so it’s between Nicky’s legs, the hint of tantalising pressure.

‘I meant _spicy_.’ Nicky shifts and grabs Joe’s ankle. ‘This is different.’ He runs his thumb up the arch of Joe’s foot, eliciting a sharp intake of breath and a squirm. It never fails to amuse him that his fierce warrior is ticklish.

Joe raises a brow and Nicky hears it as well as anything he might speak in words. It says that Nicky should be careful when Joe’s foot is so precariously placed, but he knows Joe would never hurt him, and definitely not _there_.

All the same, he runs his thumb along Joe’s instep once more, then lets his hand rest curled around Joe’s ankle, fingers creeping beneath the hem of his pants, tickling through dark hair.

‘Your hand is much colder than my foot,’ Joe says, a frown creasing his brow. He sets his mug down and holds out his hands. ‘Here, let me warm them,’ he says, and takes Nicky’s hands. He kisses each palm, reverent in the way he always is when it comes to Nicky, then rubs them between his own. ‘Better?’

Nicky nods. ‘Much.’

Joe kisses his knuckles again, then lets go of his hands. After a moment, a sly smile tilts his mouth. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘I’ve brought you hot chocolate and warmed your hands but you leave me cold.’

‘Your feet are warmer, now,’ Nicky says, curling his hand around Joe’s foot to check.

‘Not my feet.’ Joe points to his mouth, which quirks in another smile.

‘Your—’ Nicky snorts, and shakes his head. ‘That is a terrible line.’

‘I used all my best ones a millennia ago.’

‘That’s not how I remember it.’

Joe’s eyes narrow. ‘You’re not saying my lines have always been terrible, are you?’

‘Not at all.’ Nicky leans up on his knees and cups Joe’s face in his hands. ‘But you do not need to coerce me into kissing you.’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy being coerced.’

Nicky sighs, but then he kisses Joe. Once, soft and deep, then twice more for good measure.

‘Still thrills me,’ Joe says, licking his lips. ‘And warms me like nothing else.’

‘I should hope so,’ Nicky says, and kisses Joe once more before he settles back. But he doesn’t get far before Joe reaches for him, taking his hand, and tugging.

Nicky lets himself be pulled across the couch and shuffled around until he’s sitting between Joe’s legs, his back to Joe’s chest. The rise and fall of Joe’s chest always soothes Nicky, and he knows Joe feels the same—that Nicky’s heart beating beneath his palm is the only way he can sleep.

So, he’s not surprised Joe holds on tight when he reaches forward, keeping him firmly in place, though Nicky could easily disentangle himself if he wanted.

‘Where are you going?’ Joe says, nipping his earlobe.

‘To get my drink,’ Nicky says, ‘which you so kindly made for me.’

Joe hums, but he loosens his hold. ‘Don’t go too far.’

Nicky huffs and leans forward, barely leaving the circle of Joe’s arms, and rests back as soon as he grabs his mug.

Joe presses a kiss behind Nicky’s ear and says, ‘What took you so long?’

‘You are ridiculous, sometimes.’

‘And yet you love me.’

‘And yet I love you.’

‘Then all is as it should be.’

‘Mm.’ Nicky leans back, melting into the warmth of Joe, a sense of peace washing through him.

They settle into silence, broken only by the persistent rain and the fire crackling nearby. Nicky cradles his mug in his hands and lets his eyes close.

‘You’re quiet back there,’ Nicky says, voice slurred with the edge of sleep, ‘what are you thinking of?’

‘I was just thinking how I love a rainy day.’

Nicky cracks open an eye so he can glance out the window, at the grey skies and wet ground. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘so do I.’ And as he sips his chocolate, warmed by the drink and the fire and his love’s embrace, it is, mostly, the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> This is my first time writing this ship, which was both exciting and nerve wracking but I had a lot of fun!


End file.
